


A Chance for Do-Gooders; or, Do-Gooders Do Good, Almost; or, How Not to Save Someone

by koroleva_dramy



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead - Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (1990) RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:57:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koroleva_dramy/pseuds/koroleva_dramy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern work with The Player to regain Hamlet's affections for Ophelia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chance for Do-Gooders; or, Do-Gooders Do Good, Almost; or, How Not to Save Someone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izzybeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzybeth/gifts).



A Chance for Do-Gooders; or, Do-Gooders Do Good, Almost; or, How Not to Save Someone

Ophelia: My good Rosencrantz, my good Guildenstern. Gentlemen. What night closes in now Hamlet has removed the sun?

Rosencrantz: No, sure, m’lady, ‘tis but a cloud passing.

Ophelia: Gentle, it is the deepest night does give me pause.

(Guildenstern and Rosencrantz look up then shrug at one another.)

Ophelia: What had been was not as it seemed; what seemed was not what it had been. The seams have stretched, like the bluest sky cracking open to receive night’s fouls breath.

Rosencrantz: Methinks a brief catnap will re-train your eyes again upon waking. You may repose here. (While arranging a spot for her, he drops a coin and tries to hide his curiosity of how it landed.)

Guildenstern: No, no, I insist, here. (He motions to a strange spot because he’s straining to see the coin.)

Ophelia: What needs be done now, dear…(looks to Guildenstern, then Rosencrantz)…gentlemen, is neither nap nor dreams, but a webbed hammock for a spider to catch its sustenance. What will be, will not be as it seems. (Steps on coin.)

Rosencrantz: Nothing is what it seems, it seems.

Guildenstern: Well, sure, this chair I’m sitting on is what it seems, quite. Were it not, I’d spill to the floor. (pause) If that be there. (Looking down.)

Ophelia: A woman run mad from grief is a dreadful sight to behold. It moves one to….

Guildenstern: Ooohhh, I like where you’re leading with this. Hamlet plays at madness. You match him point for point; love. He switches sides.

Rosencrantz: Aaahhh. No. That cannot be. If we have known Hamlet, as I believe we have, then we have known him to avoid acting. Wretched line of work. He cannot lie.

Guildernstern: He lies where he lays, and he lies too long. And lays too long. Let the laying liar lie. Let the lying layer lay. Hmm.  
Ophelia: (To herself) Such ghastly wardrobe will I contrive, that even birds will fly from shelter to escape the mad façade. My message will be—there will be a message for each of them, delivered by flora and sing-song logic.

Guildenstern: I know one: “You may be right / I may be crazy / But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for / Turn out the light / Don’t try to save me / You may be wrong for all I know / But you may be right.”

Rosencrantz: (impatiently) If I flip a coin will you stop? (flips) Heads. (gets an idea.) M’lady, you have a scheme which you intend to follow. Before you leave—please, hold here a moment—will you toss this coin to settle a bet?

Ophelia: Yes, dear…Ro..sen..cratz. (looks concerned, as if, “right?”) (Ros nods.) (She moves to flip it, stops.) Then again, such a light toss of gold could upset the tricky balance I propose. May I put this by awhile, until my night has broken for the day?

Guildenstern: (helps her down steps) Allow me, m’lady.

Ophelia: I must away now. I miss the light of day and the bird’s sweet song. Only Hamlet now can return them me. Farewell dear gentle friends.

[Exeunt Ophelia.]

Rosencrantz: Well. That is well. Fire for fire I say.

Guildenstern: Nay, one should not play with the heat of madness; it singes the brain. 

Rosencrantz: As you well know. 

Guildenstern: Ay. Naaaay. Wait, did Ophelia take the coin with her?

Rosencrantz: No, she set it down…there.

(As Rosencrantz and Guildenstern both race over to check it, the Player enters.)

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern: Heads.

[Enter Player]

Player: May you always keep them.

Rosencrantz: Good morrow, sir. 

Player: Yes, yes, always a good morrow when one has such fair beauty in it.

Guildenstern: Thank you.

Player: Not you, sir, though your face be smooth. I say, we may have a part for you in a coming production: “A Fair One Fakes Her Death.”

Guildenstern: Hmmm, yes, that is…nope, not catchy.

Player: The details…it’s the details that want putting down. 

Rosencrantz: Therein lives the devil.

Player: (not hearing) I spoke to the poor maiden with the sour milk of lost love.

(Rosencrantz & Guildenstern grimace)

Player: She has given me such charge I cannot deny, nor know I how to follow. Such a charge, fellows, that provide me my lasting legacy. (Player mimes to himself some possible stage options.)

Rosencrantz: We shan’t keep you, then. Genius awaits. (Turns to leave)

Guildenstern: Psst. Ros. Aymay iay eakspay ithway ouyay ownay.

Rosencrantz: (Gives Guildenstern a strange look, but follows him.)

Guildenstern: (whispers) It behooves us help this fellow to ensure no harm befouls our Ophelia.

Rosencrantz: Our Ophelia? Come now, only Hamlet can make such a claim.

Guildenstern: But Hamlet is not himself; therefore, no claim may he make.

Rosencrantz: If Hamlet makes a claim, but Hamlet is not himself, then Hamlet does not exist.

Guildenstern: There we have it. (pridefully) You sound just like me.

Rosencrantz: We shall help. (turns to Player) Dear Sir, ….whatever is he up to?

Player: Is it not obvious? My youngest player, dressed in Ophelia’s fine garb, runs blind mad to yonder pond. All the while, Hamlet watches on till he can refuse his love no longer. He runs after her, and saves her swiftly from the tide.

Guildenstern: The tide of the pond, then?

Rosencrantz: He saves the young player? I think he’ll catch on. At that point; maybe sooner.

Player: Details, details. Ophelia will of course be waiting in the thick of trees. The player runs to her, and she shows herself as Hamlet nears. 

Rosencrantz: And if Hamlet misses the clue? If he doesn’t guess that Ophelia intends to do herself in? What then?

Player: Then my player shall find himself in the water, having failed at the most important role to date. (Aside to Rosencrantz & Guildenstern) Really, I’m looking to replace him. Do one of you gentlemen fancy life on the stage? On the road?

Guildenstern: Tempting dear fellow. I will flip for it—tails I will join you, heads I will not. (He flips the coin) Heads. Oh well, fate has decided.

Player: Well, well, no harm trying. Yet, I need your help to turn Hamlet’s head toward my screaming fake Ophelia. Will you do your part to win back Hamlet for saner days?

Rosencrantz: We will do what we can Sir. (listens) Let’s away, someone this way comes. (Everyone scrambles to hide, but the young player trips on his dress.)

[Enter Ophelia]

Ophelia (Taken aback.) What odd visage is before me? Ay, I know you well by garments long, and hair full wild. (Sits across from young Player and talks.) He cared not for our madness. No, he noted not at all our madness. We will now forget—it will be a terrible forgetting. (She closes her eyes and sways her arms; the young Player mirrors her movement.)

Player: (whispers to Rosencrantz & Guildenstern) Now, run, fetch Lord Hamlet. We will set this early-hatched plan in motion.

Rosencrantz: We shall get him if he gets not us first. (rephrases) …if he first gets us not. …if he…

Guildenstern: What he said. And, farewell. Lose her not from your sight

Rosencrantz: (to himself) …lose not her from your sight. (shrugs. To Guildenstern) What are the odds of a happy ending? Shall we toss? Heads or tails?

[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern]

Player: “Lose her not….” Ha. My script must be followed. (talking to Ophelia, but looking toward where Hamlet may come from; Exeunt Ophelia) Ophelia, dear heart, Hamlet may be this way but a short while; I shall look out for him and tell you when to run…. (turns to Ophelia) Ophelia? (pause) Oh, well, no one ever listens to the director. (sees something on the ground) What here? A coin? (Looks at it closely) Tails. (pockets it slyly).

[Exeunt Player]

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I had hoped to use the OED more often for word choices, but ran out of time. I hope the modern song wasn't too invasive...I just like how it worked...! Finally, I was going to do more with The Player, but I like him to fail at his attempts. He's a fun character.... 
> 
> I welcome your feedback! Happy Yuletide Goat!


End file.
